


Same Time Next Week

by kansas_byrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Decisions, Breathplay, Dom Sam Winchester, Just D/S overtones, M/M, Murder, Not Beta Read, Possessive Behavior, Prostitution, Sibling Incest, Sort of off screen torture, Sub Dean, Twink Dean, Unhealthy Relationships, Wincest - Freeform, dark!sam winchester, dub con, not a BDSM relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-05-06 22:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansas_byrne/pseuds/kansas_byrne
Summary: Every week, the same guy. Dean is still not gay.





	1. I'm not gay

“Straight, my ass,” The man gasps out as he fucks, his dick huge and swollen inside Dean, spread out on his back with his knees almost to his shoulders. 

Dean laughs bitterly, his face mostly hidden in the crook of his arm, jerking with the force of each thrust. “I'm not gay,” he mutters, yet again. He’s lost count of the times he’s said it, but maybe that’s the appeal here. 

He doesn’t seem to care, babbling, “Do you want it? You want it?” 

Dean sighs into his forearm, “Yes.” 

“In the ass?” Pumping frantically, his voice high pitched and urgent. 

“Yes,” he replies, and instinct makes him look at the man and smile, fondle his dick. He’s hard, he can’t deny it, but he’s not gay, he doesn’t like it. This man has been fucking him for almost an hour, and the pay is good, but it is relentless. He can ignore how good it feels, and he never tries hard to get off. 

His instincts are excellent because the man starts coming, pushing himself deep inside Dean’s hole, his face a mask of sheer ecstasy. 

“There is no way,” He cries out, delirious, “That you’re straight.” 

Dean just closes his eyes. “I’m not gay,” he whispers uselessly. The man is _still coming,_ though he’s pulled most of the way out, milking the come right into Dean’s asshole, marvelling at how stretched it is. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Dean can see the glimmer of tears on his face. 

“Thank you,” He says sadly. He’s thought about trying to come for this guy before, but all his experience says that it would go badly after. 

He pays an extra fee to be able to fondle Dean’s aching, gaping hole. He takes a picture to add to the several dozen he already has. 

“I love you,” he says at the door, like always. 

Dean smiles, kisses him on the cheek, and he can see the thought spark. Maybe next week he can get Dean to admit it. 

Dean closes the door on his hopeful smile.


	2. You belong to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after the customer leaves.

 

As soon as the door is shut, Dean can feel a prickle over the back of his neck that turns into a full body shiver. A hand comes around him from behind, engaging the chain and pressing flat against the door, hemming him in. 

“Let me see.” the man behind him whispers against the small hairs behind Dean’s ear.

Dean closes his eyes, then bends at the waist and spreads his legs. A finger slips into him, pumping lazily in and out, making a soft wet noise.

“Look at you,” He almost purrs against Dean’s skin. “Sloppy and open. Where’s the money?”

Wordlessly, Dean jerks his chin over at the stand next to the bed. His flagged erection is back, rock hard. He bucks his hips backwards with a soft whine as a second finger follows the first. The low chuckle behind him makes him moan.

“Did you want to come for him? Stroke yourself while he fucks you, beg him for more, come all over your belly like the whore you are?” Though the voice is soft, Dean can hear the danger in it, and it makes his blood sing with want. He shakes his head urgently.

The fingers withdraw so he can grab Dean by the hips and pull him back roughly. He’s not wearing anything, and the head of his cock bumps against Dean’s ass. Dean braces himself against the door hurriedly as it pushes into his hole, and fuck it feels good. He arches his back and stretches into it with a deep happy sigh.

One hand leaves his hip and wraps around his throat. Dean makes a squeaking noise that gets silenced as his air gets cut off slowly but surely while he’s rut into from behind. The second hand joins the first, and now he’s holding onto Dean just by the throat.

Dean can barely breathe, but he’s full, so fucking full. He loses the ability to hold himself up against the door, letting himself hang from the hands that are throttling him, eyes rolled back in ecstasy. The cock inside him is enormous, he can’t see, and every breath is fire. Dimly, he wonders if this time it will go too far, and the thought only sends a thrill of pleasure through him.

“You belong to  _ me _ .” he hisses into Dean’s ear, angry, possessive.

Dean comes helplessly, the world whiting out around him as he does.

He’s on the bed when he comes back to the world. A gentle hand is cleaning him off, lips kissing his skin, following the warm washcloth. His throat feels like fire, and he coughs.

“Shhh,” hands help him up gently, a plastic hotel cup with water is held to Dean’s lips until he drinks, and then he lies back down, sinking into the pillow.  

Dean opens his eyes to look up at him and smiles dopily, all heavy limbs, relaxed and satisfied.

"Welcome back, Dean,” Sam says as he kisses one of the many forming bruises on his brother’s neck. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you were so fucking hot, hanging from my dick like that. I meant what I said though.”

He tilts Dean’s chin up so that he can look into Sam’s eyes. “You’re mine. He can fuck you, but you only come for me. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Dean kisses Sam gently and nods, snuggling down into the pillow to sleep, lulled by the scent of his brother’s skin. Sam doesn’t need to worry. It’s like he said to his last customer… he’s not gay. His only sexuality is Sam.


	3. I would treasure you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is jealous and Sam is a jerk. This is not a good combination.

The moment Dean laid his eyes on the guy, he knew there would be trouble. This club, their favorite club,  is the sort of place that he can easily pick up someone who is willing to pay for it. Sometimes he gets the violent type, and he doesn’t really mind cause Sam has his back. Most of them don’t give off weird vibes, though, they’re just angry. This guy, however, makes him scared.  Dean saw him an hour ago in the same spot, same bottle of beer, watching. Every time he looks over, the guy is still watching. Dean turns and walks away with an exaggerated eye roll that he hopes gets the point across.

He finds Sam at the other end of the bar, talking to some college girl in a miniskirt with miles of silver eyelashes. Dean scowls, but Sam pretends he’s not there, looking at her with his huge brown eyes and that fucking smile that has every chick wetting themselves to give him the time of day. Chafing at the blow-off, he turns to look at the guy, still camped in that spot nursing the same damn bottle of beer. Watching him. There’s something knowing about the look on the asshole’s  face now that rings every alarm bell Dean has.

Turning back to Sam, he finds that his brother is not at all interested in anything except getting this girl’s panties off. He’s whispering in her ear, and whatever hilarious thing he has to say makes her giggle. Sam’s hands ruck her skirt up a little, and she adjusts her body language, tilting her pelvis towards him invitingly. Dean grinds his teeth, surging forward.

He pushes the bitch, getting into Sam’s face. She makes an undignified squawking noise, but Sam just looks calm. Dean spits out,  “Fine, you want to fuck her, I get to do what  _ I _ want.”

Sam’s eyes glitter, laser focused on Dean’s face. It makes his dick hard and sends a thrill of danger down his spine. “I’m not sure who you think you are,” Sam grabs his chin with one hand, “But if I want to have her, I will. You’re going to sit the fuck down and do as you’re told, Dean.”

Dean wrenches his chin away from Sam and slinks away from him, blinking back tears, glaring at the girl as he goes. He sits on a bar stool, forgetting everything else except watching Sam pull out the charm to get her back in the mood, changing his tactics to include the hint of possessiveness she saw slip out from under his mask. In a matter of minutes they are making out, Sam making eye contact with Dean as he practically fucks her on the bar.

From behind him, a voice with a strange lilt to it makes him jump. “He doesn’t treasure you.”

Dean turns to look at the creepy stalker. “Yes he does.”

The man shakes his head, “Now he just wants to hurt you. I would treasure you.”

Dean can feel the bartender hovering nearby, pretending to clean glasses, and it concerns him. The guy has good instincts too, and he’s been around a while. He and Sam tip him enough that he lets them know when someone’s an undercover cop, but he hasn’t done that yet. Dean should tell the weirdo to fuck off.

Instead, Dean pretends to be flustered, ducking his head and looking up through his lashes, “You’re sweet. But, I’m working.”

The stalker smiles. “I know.” He brings out a wallet, and shows Dean a practical mountain of cash. 

Dean looks at it. Stalker-guy is either stupid or a criminal. No one comes  _ here _ and shows a whore that kind of money without either being naive, or confident he won’t get rolled. Everything inside him is screaming to tell the guy to shove it. He looks over towards Sam, but finds that he’s gone. So is the bitch.

Heart pounding, he pastes on a smile. “Well, handsome, my lucky night. You gonna show me how much you treasure me?” he jerks his head to the bathrooms.

Stalker purses his lips. “No, I want more than a quick fuck in a dirty men’s room. I have a hotel room.” He dangles a key. It’s a motel Dean’s worked from before. Everyone minds their own business there. He can’t bring this guy back to theirs, in case Sam is there with  _ her. _

Shrugging, he hops off the barstool. The bartender grabs his arm and shakes his head, but Dean shrugs him off. “Fuck it,” he says with a smile, “I get to have a good time too. Lead the way, Romeo.”

The man smiles, all teeth. “Alastair. Call me Alastair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags added.


	4. In the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair rapes Dean.

Dean’s body jerks with every thrust as he phases back into consciousness, he’s being fucked again. It hurts, everything hurts. Above him is that man, Alastair, staring into him, never blinking. Everything gets fuzzy around the edges, but Sam is here, pulling him off Dean, cradling his head.

“Sam….” he tries to touch Sam’s face, but something is wrong with his hands, he can’t move them, can’t feel them. “Sam, I didn’t give in, I’m yours, please,   _ Sam!!”  _ His face hurts, and Sam is slapping him. No, not Sam…

_ Alastair _ . He slaps Dean again, harder, jarring him out of his fugue. “Stay with me, princess. Wake up.”

Dean stirs and groans in despair, Alastair’s eyes catching and holding his gaze, pinning him to consciousness while he thrusts into Dean. He’s sore, tightly restrained ,thighs spread so far that his hips hurt, leaking come and lube. He hurts everywhere, but doesn’t remember why, exactly. The pain is excruciating, but all he can remember is timelessness of being fucked for what seems like eternity by a man with endless endurance and a frightening refractory period. What happens in-between each time leaves him wishing that Alastair would never come. Better this than when he gets bored--Dean’s memory comes back all at once and he lets out a choking sob, turning his head away from the violating stare.

Alastair, eyes glazed with lust, runs a finger through Dean’s tears with that sugar-venom smile. He seems to love it the most when Dean cries or begs, caressing his face and whispering soothing, loving words. Somehow he already knew what was forbidden, the uncrossable limit that Sam had set, and so he tried hard to make Dean come -- once he’d struggled Dean to the bed and made sure he couldn’t run or leave. Alastair was a master at teasing an unwilling erection out of him, but Dean never gave in, even when he was so tense and on edge that his whole body vibrated with the need to release. The first lesson that he learned was that Alastair angry is exponentially worse than bored.

The second is that his captor is obsessed and insecure, and that he won’t choke Dean out when he comes if Dean pretends he wants it. He doesn’t want to pass out again, but he can’t do it this time. As Alastair’s hands latch onto Dean’s throat and squeeze, he just looks away and tries to think about Sam’s eyes. He tries to hold on, but he can’t see and the world is fuzzy and he hurts so much. He whispers Sam’s name, infuriating Alastair --he can feel it when the man bites him, but the lightning bolt of pain seems to belong to someone else. He loses consciousness knowing that his brother is too busy fucking some random woman, that he won’t even look for him for a day or even two.

Sam isn’t coming. He’s going to die, on his own, in the dark.


	5. A little death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't die.

He doesn’t die.

Suddenly Dean is sucking in air as the hands are ripped from his throat. His blurred vision clearing, he can see Sam behind Alastair, eyes wild, twisting the man’s own belt around his neck. Still balls deep inside Dean, his back is a perfect arch, clawing at his neck as Sam uses all his leverage to haul him backwards and onto the floor.

Dean struggles hard against his bonds, only able to see Sam’s back, watching his powerful muscles work as he holds Alastair down. The choking noises stop after what seems like forever. Sam straightens, letting out a huff of air and shifting his shoulders back with a last glare at the still form on the floor. Then he turns, looking over Dean carefully, his gaze intent.

Dean shudders and starts babbling, his voice slurred and rough. “I..I didn’t...he couldn’t make me...he tried, but he, he couldn’t… _ Sam, _ I didn’t…”

“Shut up.” Sam growls. “I know.”

He comes over, running his hands over Dean’s body, examining everything. Bound in this position, Dean can’t hide anything, so he lies there and goes quiet, letting Sam look.

“Fuck,” Sam says, and god  _ his voice _ . It’s the voice he only hears when Sam is buried inside him, possessive and absolute. He strokes Dean, rough hands up his thighs, over his arms, his stomach. Then, his ass, a knife-gleam in his eyes at Dean’s exhausted whimper.

“You’re well used.” He pushes two fingers into Dean’s ass, pumping slowly. “He took you and tried to make you abandon me, and look at you.”

Dean can’t think. It hurts so much, but Sam’s stroking him right, crooking his fingers, and it’s  _ Sam _ . But…”Is...is this real?”

Sam murmurs soothing words, three fingers now, and after everything it’s not even a stretch. Dean’s still so painfully hard, and it feels exquisite. “Look at you. So good. So fucking loyal.”

Dean starts shaking. He’s locked in Sam’s gaze, lulled by the sound of his voice, the familiar way he fucks him. White bursts behind his eyes, and he wants to let go, but…

”Please. Please, Sam..” he slurs, desperate.

Sam kisses him viciously, finally closing his clever fingers around Dean’s cock and forces it from him, holding him while he shakes, weeping Sam’s name with worship on his tongue.

Then Sam is unbuckling straps and letting them fall to the floor with a heavy jingle and thump. Wrapping him in a filthy blanket and carrying him like a bride, away. His body is heavy and tired with the loss of adrenaline and fear. He looks at Alastair lifeless on the floor as he’s swept away, and satisfied, succumbs to exhaustion.


	6. How things Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look back at when this all started.

Their father was an obsessed asshole.  He left for days and weeks at a time, leaving Dean to take care of Sam alone. This time, they’d been in this shitty motel for two months without a word. The money ran out after the first three weeks, but somehow they kept eating. Sam knew what Dean had started doing to feed them, because he’s smart. Leaving the motel in the tightest jeans imaginable and coming home in desperate need of a shower with a wad of cash explains it all. 

Those goddamned jeans. Worn, faded and soft, they lovingly hugged every inch of his brother’s beautiful ass, and it drove him insane. Dean was athletic but slender, in a fuckable twink phase that he never grew out of. All available nutrition went to his Sammy, so he stayed small while Sam, tall as a tree, had developed muscles and stamina. He thought about picking his brother up and fucking him against a wall almost daily, feverishly fucking his own fist in the shower; deliriously unable to come until he heard the irritated sound of his brothers voice yelling about him using all the hot water. Sam was obsessed. The thought of Dean screwing other men wasn’t as bad as he thought it should be, maybe. It made him want to watch, but he held back until Dean started showing bruises.

Dean ducked the question, increasingly flustered and strange as Sam pushily insisted that he tell what happened, finally locking himself in the bathroom. Sam paced outside in a black mood. If their father  wasn’t going to show up and take care of Dean, then Sam would.

The next night, Sam pretended to be absorbed in a project as Dean left for his pretend job. He’d stopped caring about college long ago, but he still went to school because it kept Dean calm, the thought of his brother being on the track to something else. Something better. Sam didn’t want something ‘better’. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it. He already had a ghost of a plan in his head. It would be better if they left in a few days and never told their father where they were going. He could make it happen, make Dean understand that they didn’t need anything but each other. Sam would just have to be extra persuasive.

Following Dean was laughably easy, because he was only going to the truck stop just across the parking lot from the motel. Watching his brother, Sam could also see the problem almost immediately. Dean had picked up a pimp. He probably had no choice, he thought absently as he picked his way towards his brother and the human stain he was arguing with; this man had staked out a territory, and Dean was trespassing. It was either work for him or do find some other way to make a buck. Sam’s heart did a little weird skip, thinking about Dean just taking it so he could be fed and housed. Before he could make it all the way over, the pimp grabbed Dean’s arm, hauling him around the back of the building, into the dark. Sam frowned and jogged, not even trying to be stealthy now. This wasn’t going to end well.

Sam rounded the corner of the building to the sounds of muffled, wet, choking noises. Under the weird yellow light  shining over the loading door, Dean was being face fucked by the pimp. Sam could see the bruise on his face already forming. The light blinked as moths and huge long legged-mosquito things crawled all over it. Sam stopped moving. He watched.

The pimp was a pasty-faced, unwashed brute, his pants down around his ankles. His hands gripped Dean’s head, jiggling stomach pressed against his eyes and nose as he fucked Dean’s mouth slowly. Against all odds, the pimp was hung like a horse, and Dean’s distressed gagging seemed to only make him enjoy it more. He was gasping out words in between thrusts, all of them threats.

Two things battled in Sam’s black heart: the desire to kill this fucker with his bare hands, and the desperate throbbing need to see Dean swallow every drop. Rubbing his dick through his jeans, he reflected that maybe he could have both. So he waited, his blood thundering in his temples, barely breathing, for the pimp to grunt and hold still. Dean choked and gagged on it, come dripping out of the sides of his mouth, trying not to asphyxiate on it.

A second later, Sam found his true calling, murder singing through his veins.

Dean’s face, terrified, shocked and worshipful, is something they will find etched into Sam’s evil  withered heart after he’s dead. He didn’t even try to protest when Sam forced those fucking jeans off and fucked him right next to the cooling corpse.

It wasn’t all roses after that. Sam had to train Dean to accept how things were going to be, after all, and if it got violent...if he had to force his brother more than once, well. Sam is magnanimous. Dean just didn’t understand that he already belonged to Sam.

It’s just how things are.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a porn snippet I saw, bad dialogue and all.


End file.
